What If?
by Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Tim encounters a Joker from another universe, Joker Junior, who is himself after the tragedy and sadness of his life catches up to him. Tim finds himself questioning everything he is and everything he wants to be, and he wonders what will happen if he isn't strong enough to stop this nightmare from becoming a reality.


_This idea has been in my head for so long, and I just had to write it. Tim gets transported into another universe, one in which he became Joker Junior and wreaked havoc on the world. Upon coming back, Tim realizes that he has the potential to break and become just as bad, and insecurities make themselves known. Also Tim and Dick brotherly fluff because I just can't help myself. No slash. Really sad and poor Timmy is so scared about his future._

 _I own nothing!_

* * *

Tim woke up in what he thought to be the Batcave. It looked like it, but there was an emptiness that suggested otherwise. His mind was a little fuzzy, and he had trouble remembering what happened to land him on the floor among the clutter. The last thing he remembered was a run of the mill fight with Penguin earlier... That's right. Cobblepot had some kind of weird ray gun weapon that Tim had confiscated before sending him off to Arkham. He, Dick, and Bruce were studying it and Tim accidentally touched a button and... Oh yeah, he messed up and he got shot with it.

 _What else is new?,_ he thought bitterly.

Tim lay on the floor for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and cease the annoying spinning sensation he felt. He put a hand to his forehead against the pounding headache, noting that he was still clad in his Red Robin costume. He slowly sat up and looked around. The place he was in now was far different from the Batcave he knew, and he wondered what the hell that gun did to him.

The cave was rundown and dirty as if it hadn't been inhabited in years. It was so dark Tim could barely see five feet in front of him. There was dust everywhere and there was not a single item of furniture that wasn't overturned as if thrown in anger. What happened? The cave had been perfectly fine just minutes ago, and Tim wondered if maybe he'd been unconscious for longer than he'd previously thought.

He stood up and held onto a large desk for balance when he stumbled. He felt weak, but that seemed to be all that was wrong with him at the moment. Physically, at least. So the ray gun didn't hurt him or kill him, that was obvious. What was its purpose then? Most likely it transported him somewhere, but he was still in the Batcave, so where was he? Did he time travel? Is he hallucinating?

He tried his comm, but there was only static. Odd. He settled on looking around, trying to figure out exactly what happened to cause this amount of neglect in the Batcave.

There was a large stack of newspapers on the floor, that lay around helter skelter. He picked one up and skimmed it for any useful information. It was from three days ago, and the headline read: **Joker Destroys Wayne Towers, Over Four Hundred Dead**.

Wait, what? That never happened, or Tim would _definitely_ have known about it. Maybe he was in some other dimension? That must be it. It explained why there were all of these changes, at least.

Tim groaned. It took forever to get home from other dimensions, and it was always difficult finding his way around in strange universes. Hopefully Bruce and Dick were already working on getting him back, so he should be rescued soon.

In the meantime, Tim had to focus. He couldn't stay in the demolished Batcave, and he had to figure out a way to get back. He had a lot of faith in his family, but it would be easier to get back to his own world if he tried it from this end.

He skimmed a few more newspapers in the stack and gathered that this universe was at least six years or so into the future. He tried not to look at the headlines, as paper after paper consisted of articles on Joker practically destroying the world. Each story was Joker killing heroes and gaining more control, though nobody knew where he was. They said he would disappear for a length of time, suddenly come back, and create more chaos before fading away again.

What happened to cause this, Tim didn't know. But what he did know was that he had to get back home as soon as possible. A world where Joker had power was not one he wanted to be in for long.

First things first. Tim needed to find this world's version of Bruce Wayne. No matter what universe he was in, Tim knew that Bruce would always be a good person who would be willing to help him. It was a good thing Tim was already in the manor, so Bruce should be fairly easy to find. He walked over to the staircase, making his way carefully up the rickety steps.

It took some effort to shove aside the old grandfather clock that served as the Batcave's entrance, as it likely hadn't been in use for years. Once he was in the mansion, Tim took one look and gasped with shock.

It was hard to believe this place had once been Wayne Manor. There no longer was the familiar atmosphere Alfred brought or the warmth Tim always felt when he was there. It was trashed like the Batcave, but it also looked as though a madman lived there.

The grand piano Tim had once so admired was now completely destroyed, charred as if set on fire at some point. Every window in sight was smashed to pieces and Tim could feel the eerie chill from the outside air. The couches had been ripped apart by some kind of blade and stuffing littered the room. The once clean white walls had giant holes smashed in them- likely by a sledgehammer- and they were spraypainted in several different colors, all saying the same words over and over again.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Tim stepped over the broken glass, speechless at the sight of the terrible destruction to the place he'd once thought of as home. Who had done this? And more importantly, where was his family? They clearly didn't live here at the moment, so where were they? What happened?

As if answering his silent question, a laugh rang out and echoed all around him, bouncing off the walls and reverberating deep in his soul.

Joker was here.

Tim got into a fighting stance, knowing how incredibly unpredictable Joker could be.

Tim's eyes flicked everywhere in search for that madman. It was clear that in this universe the Joker had won the infamous Batman vs Joker rivalry, and Tim's heart filled with hatred. If Joker had taken over Wayne Manor, then he clearly had done something to Bruce and the rest of the family. Tim was seething with anger, and he prepared to punch Joker's lights out the second he revealed himself.

Tim waited, straining his ears for sounds of the Joker's entrance. It was barely seconds later that the clown himself stepped out from a shadow across the room, and Tim saw what this version of the Joker looked like.

He was different from the psychopath Tim knew. He was smaller, both in height and physique. He was also much younger, likely in his late teens or early twenties. His skin was the same pale complexion Tim had grown accustomed to, and his shaggy hair was a dark green color. His eyes were wide with dark circles under them, giving him a nightmarish quality. He wore a ripped purple suit that looked like it hadn't seen a washing machine in years and he carried a long regal cane with him, covered in a few flakes of what was no doubt dried blood.

The worst part was his large grotesque smile. His lips were wide and red, and there were long scars running across his cheeks from the corners of his mouth to his cheekbones in a permanent smile. The scars were jagged as if inflicted by an old piece of metal or another crude blade. They were hard to ignore, and Tim was reminded of a horror movie.

The strange thing, though, was that there was a nagging feeling Tim couldn't shake that told him he knew this man somehow. He obviously was not the same Joker from Tim's world, but Tim knew he recognized him from somewhere. Something about the familiar eyes and face told Tim that he should remember him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

When Joker got a better look at Tim he paused mid-step, as if something about Tim surprised him. A look of recognition flickered on his features, and his deformed face stretched out into an impossibly wide grin.

Joker laughed again, and Tim noted that his voice was much higher than the other Joker's. Smiling widely, he spoke. "Well, well, well. I have to say I never saw _this_ coming", he said. He continued to cackle, taking another step forward and pointing his cane at Tim. "You seem surprised to see me. Didn't expect to find me here at Wayne Manor, did you, Tim?"

Tim inhaled sharply. He'd already figured that the madman knew his secret identity, but hearing his name coming from the Joker's mouth sent a chill down his spine. He considered his options. He needed to either fight or escape. Fight seemed like the best option, as Tim wanted nothing more than to trash the man who destroyed his home. Not to mention avenge his family, whose current whereabouts were still unknown.

It would be better if he caught Joker off guard, so Tim figured it best to keep him talking. He calculated his response and cautiously responded, "You know me?"

Joker giggled hysterically, as if in on some kind of inside joke Tim wasn't a part of. "Ha ha ha, more than you think, little bird."

Joker took a step closer, now barely ten feet away, close enough for Tim to see just how deep and wide the long facial scars were. Joker seemed to be studying Tim, and Tim chose that moment to strike. He sent a fist towards Joker's face, hitting him in the jaw with a loud crack. What he didn't expect was for Joker to counter with a flawless defensive move that sent Tim to the floor, gasping as the wind was knocked from his lungs.

"I can see you don't quite know who you're dealing with, hm?"

Tim growled quietly, pushing himself up and attempting a kick at the man's legs. This Joker was a much better fighter than the one Tim knew, as he was easily able to deflect Tim's attack and render him defenseless in minutes with an attack that Tim recognized from Bruce's teachings. Joker caught Tim in a hold, his arms twisted painfully behind his back.

"Stop fighting, Tim. We both know you couldn't beat me if you wanted to. And I am in no mood to waste time on inevitably beating you at your own game." He tightened his hold on Tim's arms, earning a low groan. "How about you tell me how you got here from you world?"

Tim looked up in surprise.

"Oh please, it's obvious you aren't from here. I would know", Joker elaborated.

Joker suddenly grabbed Tim's arms and, before Tim could react, snapped one like it were a twig.

"Augh!", Tim screamed.

Joker laughed at his pain before throwing him back to the ground. Tim grunted as his newly broken arm hit the floor, sending waves of agony down his body. Joker seemed satisfied with himself and leaned casually against the wall behind him, facing Tim in a bored manner. "Okay, now that I don't have to worry about you attacking me anymore, allow me to ask again. How'd you get to my lovely dimension? Ooh, ooh, let me guess! Some kind of mission with the bat, maybe? Or perhaps another one of your many superhero teams?" He crossed his arms smugly and sneered down at the teenager at his feet.

Tim groaned and sat up, favoring his left arm. Joker seemed to be waiting for a response, but Tim decided to change the subject rather than give the lunatic any information about his own world. "What are you doing here?", he finally bit out.

Joker laughed. "Why, I live here of course! I am the clown prince of Gotham and this is my glorious castle. It suits me, don't you think? Of course I had to do a little redecorating a year or two ago, but I think I managed to get it to fit my style." He smiled an ugly yellow grin at the boy on the ground. "Let me guess, Bruce is still a giant success where you're from?"

"He's beaten our own murderous sociopath more times than you can count", Tim retorted. In his mind he was going through escape options. He could try fighting Joker, but he doubted he could win even if his arm were healed, which was odd. Where did Joker learn to fight?

Tim figured maybe he could keep Joker talking until he let his guard down enough for Tim to make a speedy escape. "So what's with the scars? Your hand slipped while shaving?", Tim remarked.

Joker ran a finger up his cheek, stroking the scars fondly. "What, you don't like my iconic look? I thought a nice grin would add some character to my style, and I have to say, it's a vast improvement. No offense, of course."

Tim didn't waste any time on wondering what Joker meant with the last part of that sentence. Instead, he noticed the casual way Joker addressed him. It was as if Tim were an old friend rather than one of his most hated enemies. There was definitely something going on, but Tim couldn't identify what it was.

Joker appraised him for some time, still leaning casually on the wall and smirking. Finally he pushed himself off the wall and took a step towards Tim, who scooted back an inch out of reflex.

Joker breathed a disappointed sigh and ran a hand through his shockingly green hair. This Joker was strange compared to the one Tim knew. This one acted too... normal, if that was the right word. He acted almost like a person filling a role, rather than behaving in the natural way the usual Joker conveyed his insanity.

Joker appraised him for a moment. "You really have no idea who I am, do you?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Am I supposed to? On my world you're just some random crazy guy."

"Well, that's also true here. Or, at least it was for the original."

Tim's head snapped up. "Original? You're not the only one?" One Joker was enough, but multiple were unthinkable.

Joker's smirk grew. "Nope. There was a different one until about five or so years ago. Before I killed him and took over, that is. I'm what you would call a Joker Junior, a protege to take over the mantle. An apprentice who beat the master at his own game."

Tim stood up carefully, noting in the back of his mind that he and Joker were around the same height. He tried not to moan as his arm sent waves of fire along his bones as he jostled it. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Who are you then? His son or something?"

Joker shook his head pitifully and answered, "I have to say, bird boy, I am rather disappointed in you. I was under the impression that you were supposed to be the world's greatest detective. I haven't changed so much that you wouldn't recognize me, now have I?"

Tim stared blankly at the clown, and before he could react Joker's first met his face with a loud crack. Tim flew backwards a few feet and hit the floor, the scattered glass from the broken Windows digging into his back painfully. Joker picked him up by the collar until his feet were off the ground, likely preparing a final blow. Tim, however, used his legs and kicked him to the ground, gaining the upper hand. The Joker was too surprised to react at first until Tim already had him on the floor with his arm twisted behind his back.

Tim leaned close to his ear, his teeth clenched and his eyes burning with hatred. "I'm done playing games with you, Joker. If you don't want me to break you in half you'll tell me who you are and what you did to Bruce", he growled.

Joker let out a giddy laugh and eyed Tim with a look that was equally smug and eager.

"I'm you."

Tim was about to roll his eyes and make a sarcastic remark about how that couldn't possibly be true, but then the cogs in his mind started turning. The color drained from his face as he made the connections. The height, the voice, the skills, the knowledge of Bruce and his family...

Joker took Tim's hesitation as an opportunity to send an elbow flying at Tim's face and knock him to the ground before kicking him in the stomach. Tim saw stars flash in front of his vision. Joker pulled a gas pellet from his pocket and threw it on the ground, the gas spreading all around Tim. He tried holding his breath, but the gas soon became too much and he found himself choking on the thick substance. At once the sedative started taking effect, and he was swept away into the inviting darkness.

Tim awoke hours later, sore and groggy. He was still in the living room of Wayne Manor, and he was currently in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the middle of the floor. His arms were tied tightly behind him with rope, digging into the skin on his wrists. He tried slipping his hands out of the bonds, but he forgot about his snapped arm and gasped with pain as he moved it.

Having been waiting for Tim to wake up, Joker entered the room, his ever present smile on his face. Tims mind had been foggy when he woke up due to the knockout gas, but the second he saw the grotesque face the memories all came crashing back, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

He remembered being on this other world, learning about the new Joker, and most of all, the fact that this Joker was him. Tim Drake, a man who had always thought he was a hero.

"Why, welcome back, Sleeping Beauty. I have to say, I miss that sweet look of innocence I used to have when I slept. It's like looking through a photo album, I tell ya. Seeing you all heroic and misguided, it's refreshing."

Tim didn't answer at first, still in shock at the information of what this version of himself became. He couldn't even imagine what could prompt him to turn his back on everything he believed in to continue the legacy of the worst criminal in all of Gotham history.

"H-how?", Tim found himself asking breathlessly.

Joker circled around Tim's chair, like a lion stalking its prey."You know how the old Joker used to say that all it took was one bad day? Well, I've just had lots and lots and _lots_ of bad days." There was a tiny hint of emotion in his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came.

"What happened to everyone else?", Tim asked tentatively.

Joker rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You can't still care about those losers", he said with disgust. He sighed tiredly. "I killed them, obviously. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Stephanie, Damian, all of them. Heh heh, they never saw _that_ one coming. One by one by one, and they had no idea that it was me the whole time. Quite a feat, if I do say so myself."

Tim's eyes became glassy with sad disbelief. "How-how could you do that to your family? They were the ones who took you in, trained you, loved you-"

"Oh really?", Joker countered. "They were also the ones who broke me! Do you know how many times I've been screwed over by the only people I thought actually cared about me?! They were the same people who faked their deaths and didn't think I was important enough to know. They were the ones who would sacrifice me in a heartbeat if it meant saving someone else. They were the ones who called me crazy and tried to have me sent off the Arkham! They aren't family; they're my tragic backstory, and now I'm finally calling the shots." Joker breathed heavily, his grin long gone.

Tim was surprised by the sudden outburst, and he leaned away from the Joker's angry form. He watched as Joker's happy mask cracked and his hidden rage shown through. He stayed silent as Joker paused and plastered on another smile, laughing in the high pitched voice that sounded considerably more forced than before.

"It didn't take me long to realize that all I needed was a good laugh", he chuckled. "You should try it. It's much more freeing this way."

Tim glared in disgust. "The difference between you and me is that I would never stoop to your level. I don't know what's happened to you here, but I'm not insane enough to become a murderous sociopath."

Joker dropped to the floor in front of Tim, wagging his finger frantically. "No no no, Timmy. That's where you're wrong. There is absolutely nothing different about you and me. I was exactly like you before all this happened. Let me guess, you're a rich genius who works with Batman as Red Robin. You're with Stephanie Brown, you're leader of the Titans, you have lots of friends both in and out of costume and an adoptive family who loves you, correct?"

Tim stayed silent, but Joker grinned knowingly. "You do. I know you do, because so did I. I was the exact same person you are now before my glorious rebirth. The only thing that makes us different is that I realized how meaningless it all was much sooner. Did you ever notice that you're the one most often forgotten in that family? Or how the majority of Gotham probably has no idea who Red Robin even is? You've probably already caught that the rest of them have forgotten your birthday almost every year. You can deny it all you want, but you know it's true. They say they care, that they think you're worthy, but they really don't. You know why I did this to my face?" He jabbed a finger at the pink jagged scars. "You know why I decided to take my own path?" His voice raised and his eyes grew angry.

"Because even when I was one of the most loyal and moral people I knew, I still could never win! Not once! I got everything taken from me just minutes after it was in my reach, like the world was playing some kind of sick game with me as though I didn't matter. I got sick of being the victim and tried out getting to be the tormentor for once."

Joker's eyes bore into Tim's, who swallowed nervously at the intense gaze.

"I was too depressed all the time to even try smiling anymore. I was exactly like you, hiding in a complacent shell. Every single person I loved has either died, almost died, or simply left me all alone with no concern for what it did to me. Dick and Stephanie faked their deaths without telling me, Jason tried to kill me the second he came back to life, Damian continued to ignore me even after I helped bring him back from the dead. My parents were both killed because I wasn't strong enough to save them. When Bruce was lost in time I was the only one who knew he was alive and you know what Dick did? He called me crazy. He thought I was too emotionally unstable to handle being Robin so he gave it to the brat instead. He tried to have me committed all because he was too stupid to believe me!"

Tim stayed silent, listening in horror as the lunatic vented, emotions he clearly tried hard to hide showing through the mask of humor and evil.

"It was the little things that started it. Like how Dad sent me away to a boarding school just so he wouldn't have to deal with me, or how nobody appreciated or thanked me even after I bent backwards for them time and time again. There was also the fact that for some reason, no matter how hard I tried to be a good person and save people, the world always found some way to screw me over in the end. It wasn't long before I snapped. I realized little by little that there was no point in anything anymore. The voices wouldn't let me focus, and I decided that I needed some rebellion. Something to give me a purpose. Something to drown everything out"

His face took on a darker look and his smile vanished.

"So I killed a criminal on patrol. It wasn't anyone important, just a drug smuggler out to make some cash. But a bad guy, nonetheless. He had a gun and was probably planning on using it, so I had that as an excuse when Bruce confronted me about it. But that first kill was amazing. The rush of adrenaline, the satisfaction that you've done a good deed. It was euphoric. So I did it more and more. Pretty soon it wasn't even as a hero; I just started killing for the fun.

"Bruce found out of course and was furious. He told me that I was no better than the Joker. So I tried to prove a point by taking down the psycho myself, showing Bruce just how helpful I could be. Eventually the assassination turned into a major character study, anid pretty soon I started to understand him a little better."

Joker's eyes snapped out of his trance and locked back onto Tim's face. He giggled. "And now here I am. I took out the whole Batfamily, claimed the Joker mantle, and conquered Gotham as my own. Hell of a life story, huh kid?"

He thought for a moment, and his smile somehow got even wider, stretching out the scars and making them even more pronounced. He slowly pulled a switchblade from his jacket pocket, playing with it between his fingers threateningly. His eyes flicked back to Tim, who gulped at the weapon.

"Hey, do you really wanna know how I got these scars?", Joker asked, his eyes shining with excitement. He didn't wait for an answer before continuing.

"One day, long after the ball to where I am today was already rolling, I was looking in the bathroom mirror, seeing how dull and devoid of joy my face was. The circles under my eyes, the practically permanent frown. So without even thinking about it I took the blade from one of my razors and brought it to my face." He held the blade to Tim's face, pressing the sharp edge into his skin. Tim tried to pull away and struggled in his bonds, anything to get away from Joker and his knife.

"I dragged the razor through my cheeks and carved the lines until I knew there would be no way to ignore them. From then on I had no choice but to smile all the time, no matter how hard I tried. I was a statement to the world. I was a warning to anyone who thought they could question how far I was willing to go. People would scream in horror at the sight of me, and that just made it all the more sweeter. It's easier when your face does the smiling for you, isn't it birdy?" Joker pressed the blade harder into Tim's cheek, the boy whimpering as the point drew a drop of blood. It felt like hours before the man finally pulled the knife back away from his face. Tim let out a shuddering sigh, breathing heavily with relief once the weapon was no longer near him.

However, his horrified expression didn't leave. He was in awe of the terrifying speech, and each detail chilled him to the bone. But the story wasn't even the worst of it. The worst part was the fact that each of the hardships and experiences Joker stated, Tim remembered. Every single one of them Tim had experienced up to the breaking point. What could possibly have tipped him over the edge like that? What was the line between Tim and the man in front of him?

Joker waited, as if expecting a response. All Tim could stutter out was, "W-what did it?"

Joker shrugged, standing up from his crouch and cracking his knuckles. "Beats me. I for the life of me can't remember what the breaking point was. One day I was an ordinary teen hero like you, and the next I was this bundle of perfection you see before you. I took a swim in the Joker chemicals, got me some new clothes, crafted my beautiful smile, and killed the entire Wayne family. Then I took advantage of my inheritance and started living here. People are too scared to come within ten miles of the place."

Joker picked up his cane from where it lay on the floor and held it in his hands. "You can't fight it, you know. You won't even see it coming, the insanity. You know it's there. I can see it in your eyes. You can deny it all you want, but it's there. Creeping up on you like a panther stalking a deer. You try to pretend nothing is happening, you hide your emotions and take them out on criminals instead of admitting them. I know exactly how you think. You act as though there isn't a dark cloud over you, like you can't feel the very incarnation of insanity breathing down your neck. But me, I've embraced it. It's easier to give up, because you get to have much more fun this way. And pretty soon you'll break too." He twirled his cane in his hands, giggling.

"It's liberating, I have to say. Accepting your fate is much easier than pretending to be the good guy all the time, isn't it, baby bird?"

Tim regained his earlier confidence and bared his teeth at the Joker. "Never. There's more of a difference between us than you think, Joker. I'm not weak like you are", he spat.

Joker simply grinned and raised his cane like a bat, poised over Tim's helpless form. "That's quite a shame, then. It would have been nice to have a friend who understood. Oh well, at least I get to have some fun today."

Tim braced himself as Joker swung down his cane, hitting him in the ribs and likely breaking a few. Tim inhaled sharply, screwing his eyes shut against the pain. Joker kept laughing as he hit Tim again and again, beating him harder every time. A particularly hard blow to the head made Tim's vision go blurry, and he could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness again. It was around ten or twenty hits later that he was barely even there anymore.

He merely watched with heavy eyes as Joker raised his cane above his head, going for the final blow. But before the stick could make contact, a flash of light exploded in the room and Joker was knocked aside, crumbling on the floor across the room, knocked out. The flash was gone in the same instant it came, and in its place was now Dick, who ran over to Tim and crouched in front of him, trying to get his attention.

"Tim? Tim! Can you hear me buddy?"

Tim's eyes shifted to focus on the blurry figure in front of him, recognizing the familiar form of his brother. "Dick?", he murmured.

"I'm here, Tim. Are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner, I promise I'll have you free in just a second and we can get back home. Just hang on." Dick started working vigorously on untying the ropes that bound Tim, trying to be as gentle as possible but cringing at each muffled groan Tim made when it further aggravated his injuries.

Dick finally got the locks free and Tim was able to slip out of the cuffs, wincing at the pain in his still broken arm. He looked back at the Joker, seeing him start to get up. Dick saw this as well and hastily pulled out a device Tim had never seen before from his pocket. He fiddled with it for a second. As he pressed a button and the two brothers were whisked away, Tim heard the Joker yell one last farewell.

"You can try all you want, but you can't escape your future, Tim!", he cackled. His words echoed in Tim's ears as he reappeared in the living room of Wayne Manor, the normal one that had no trace of Joker anywhere in it.

Tim sighed with relief, as did Dick. Tim slumped to the floor and cradled his broken arm, both relieved to be home and terrified at the Joker's ominous parting statement. Dick placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay Tim? What happened there?", he asked with worry.

Tim shook his head, trying to rid it of the memories. "Nothing", he eventually choked out. "Just met the Joker from that world. I'm fine now", he responded, trying to ignore the fact that the majority of that statement was a lie.

Dick shook his head slowly. "You just met the Joker? That's it? Tim, he tried to kill you! God, look at all of those bruises..." He gently touched an already purple welt on Tim's cheek, pulling away quickly when Tim breathed sharply. "Sorry", he apologized. "He really didn't hold back this time, did he?" He stated sadly at Tim's many injuries inflicted by the clown.

There was a deep cut on his temple, and blood streamed down his face. There were bruises everywhere, and from what he could tell, Tim had also broken at least two or three ribs. Not to mention the sickening way he could see the small bulge from the bone in Tim's arm against his skin.

Tim breathed heavily and bit out, "I've had worse."

Dick didn't know how to answer that, but he finally just engulfed Tim in a hug, being wary of his injuries. "Man, I'm so glad you're okay. You've been gone for four days, and everyone was beyond worried."

Four days? Tim thought it had only been a few hours, but maybe time worked differently between universes. Not to mention the unknown amount of time he'd spent unconscious, which had probably been quite a while.

"Sorry it took us so long to get to you", Dick continued. "Bruce and Alfred have been working non-stop on targeting exactly where Penguin's machine took you and I've just been sitting around worrying and..." Dick took a breath. "I'm just really glad you're safe."

Tim leaned into the hug and breathed deeply. He never wanted to be in a world where his brother didn't exist ever again. After about a minute, Tim felt the sharp pang of one of his broken ribs and held back a groan. "Hey, c-can you help me to the med bay?", he gritted out.

Dick released him at once, his eyebrows pulling together in concern. "Oh, yeah, sorry Tim. Let's get you to Alfred." Dick supported Tim's weight as he helped him down to the Batcave, where he was welcomed back with open arms.

Bruce was more emotional than Tim had anticipated, going as far as to give Tim a short tense hug, which was the Batman equivalent of a huge emotional speech. He explained what the teleportation ray had done and how they built their own version to find out where it sent Tim. As he went on, Tim found himself wondering how Joker Junior could have turned out so awful when he had a family like this behind him.

Alfred went on and on about how glad he was that Tim was safe as he tended to his wounds, and Tim described his experience in the other dimension, leaving out the crucial part about himself being the Joker on that world. He would rather keep that information to himself, as he had a feeling it would only create doubt and distrust between himself and the rest of the family.

"I sure am glad we got you out of there", said Dick. "Sounds awful to live in a place where Joker pretty much took over the world." He cringed at the thought.

Tim nodded before stifling a yawn. Bruce noticed his tiredness and put a hand on his uninjured shoulder. "How about you get some sleep, son. You've had a pretty long day."

Tim agreed and went upstairs to where his room was in the manor. As he passed the very room he'd confronted the Joker in just hours before, he was once again reminded of what the man had told him. Could Tim really one day snap and become a crazy supervillain? Could enough bad days really do that to him?

Tim shoved the thoughts from his head and continued to his room where he got into bed, not even taking the time to shower or get into pajamas. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

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Laughter. That was all Tim could hear at the moment. All around him was high pitched laughter, echoing and reverberating in his skull. He couldn't see where he was, but he seemed to be standing in the middle of nowhere, unable to see anything in front of him. He looked around, seeing nothing familiar about his surroundings. There was only pitch black as far as he could see, and it reminded him of a coffin, dark and suffocating.

Tim covered his ears against the tormenting laughter, which made it hard to focus. It kept getting louder and louder until it consumed him, and all Tim could think about was the cruel voice of the Joker.

When Tim thought his head would explode from the volume, it finally stopped. There was only silence, and it made Tim almost wish for the laughter back. The intense quiet was so much worse, and he felt as though the isolation were strangling slowly looked up and was met with the Joker Junior himself. He smiled darkly at Tim like a predator would smile at its prey, carrying a bloody crowbar in his pale white hands.

"You should give up", he said, his words echoing all around them. "No matter what you do, you won't be able to stop yourself from becoming me."

Tim set his jaw, trying to convey courage despite his serious doubt. "You're lying. No matter what, I'll keep that from happening."

Joker laughed again. "Is that so?", he replied. "That's hard to believe."

He pointed past Tim with his crowbar, and when Tim turned around he was sickened by what he saw.

It was all of his family and friends, cruelly murdered and lifeless in a heap just feet away from here he stood. Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Barbara, he was appalled at the sight.

Tim was speechless. "You-you killed them?", he asked shakily.

Joker laughed again, twirling his crowbar like a baton. "No my boy, you did."

"What? No, I...I wouldn't! You're lying!"

"Stop living in denial, Tim. You and I both know you're losing it. Can't you already feel the darkness lurking? You're just one bad day away from snapping like a twig, from becoming just like me."

Tim covered his ears with his hands, dropping to his knees and curling into himself. "Shut up! I'm not like that, I'm a hero!"

"Oh really?", Joker countered. "Take a look at yourself and tell me I'm wrong."

Tim looked down at himself in horror to see the same purple suit Joker wore. He touched his face and felt long puckered lines up the sides of his cheeks, seeing the man in front of him mirror his actions. There was a bloody crowbar in his hands and the Joker leaned forward to whisper, "I told you, no matter what you do, you can't escape me."

He cackled loudly, and the sound of it once again filled Tim with fear, except that he found himself laughing too. He laughed and laughed, finding himself unable to stop. Tim gasped with laughter and tears ran down his face as he tried to breathe, unable to cease the deranged giggling. He couldn't breathe. All he could do was laugh and laugh, hearing the insanity in his voice.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't focus, all Tim could think about was what the Joker said to him, and Tim found himself laughing even more. He was consumed by the uncontrollable laughter until he felt himself being swept away into the darkness, the last sound he heard being his own psychotic laughter.

"Tim! Tim! Wake up!"

Tim heard a voice calling for him. He woke up suddenly with a sharp gasp, bolting up and breathing heavily with sweat dripping down his face. He was in his bed, tangled in the blankets. He sat up and saw Dick sitting next to him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Calm down, it's just me, Tim. Sorry for waking you up, but you were having a nightmare and thrashing around and everything. Are you okay?"

Tim didn't know how to answer that. He was shaken, but that was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of dread he felt in his gut. Tim remembered what the crazy man had said, and a shiver went down his spine. He didn't want to become the Joker. He didn't want to break, to suddenly snap and destroy everything he held dear. He didn't know how to answer Dick. Was he really okay?

Seeing his reluctance to answer, Dick continued, "I could hear you screaming all the way from my room. Must have been pretty bad, huh?" Tim looked down sheepishly.

"Sorry, Dick. Didn't mean to wake you up. It was just... It was just a bad dream", he said without looking his brother in the eye. Dick noticed his shaking and put a reassuring hand on Tim's wrist.

"Are you okay, Tim?", he asked slowly, repeating his earlier question.

Tim tried to seem as relaxed as possible, saying, "Yeah. Definitely. It was only a dream. I'm good." However, his head shook no matter how much he tried to stop it and he couldn't keep his hands from trembling.

Dick was silent, measuring Tim's attitude. After some moments of awkward silence he spoke again. "...What really happened in that other world?"

Tim was about to deny anything was wrong, but Dick shook his head to silence him. "Don't try telling me it was nothing, Tim. I can see you're clearly still freaked out by whatever you saw there. Was it the Joker? Did he do something to you?"

Tim looked down, playing with his sheets instead of looking Dick in the eye. He sat in silence as his mind was plagued by images of himself as the Joker, bringing back the crippling fear he felt in his dream.

"Tim?"

Tim couldn't stop the tear that fell from his eye, and he shut them against the memories. Dick saw this and gathered Tim into a hug, which Tim sank into as though gravity were suddenly stronger. It took some more coaxing from his brother, but Tim eventually spoke in a soft tone.

"I can't tell you."

Dick narrowed his eyes. "Why can't you?", he asked. He was genuinely freaked out now. His eyes swept over the bandages that concealed Tim's many injuries and wondered what could possibly be so awful that Tim was too ashamed to tell him.

"If I do, you won't trust me anymore. Not you, not Bruce, you guys won't let me keep being a hero if I tell you", he whispered.

Dick tilted his head and looked his little brother in the eye. "Tim, there is literally nothing you could possibly ever do that would make me lose faith in you, I promise. You can tell me", he urged.

Tim was silent then, contemplating his options. It wasn't that he didn't believe Dick, but saying the truth aloud would just make it more real, more terrifying. But he knew he couldn't keep his feelings inside himself for long. Finally, he let out a deep breath and admitted what he'd been so afraid to voice.

"It was me", he said softly.

"What was?"

Tim wrung his hands anxiously, his blue eyes downcast. "The Joker. The destruction. The murders. It was all me. On that world, _I_ was Joker Junior. I was the one who ruined everything."

Dick stiffened, realizing what Tim just said. He pulled away and held him at arm's length, his eyes boring into his face. His expression was more concerned than upset, but Tim regretted saying anything nonetheless. "What? How?"

Tim lightly touched his cheek where the scars had been, unaware of the action. "It was me just a short time from now. On that world it all became too much, I guess. The loss, the responsibility, he told me that after enough time he just... snapped. I don't know what broke him but.. " Tim swallowed. "But he just went insane and started killing everyone. He was the one who murdered all of you guys." His voice cracked at the end of that sentence.

Tim took a moment to glance back at his brother, who remained silent. His eyes were wide. Whether with fear or concern, Tim wasn't sure. He drew in a breath before continuing.

"He told me that he was exactly like me, that our lives were exactly the same before he broke. And the worst part was that he kept telling me that it would happen to me too. He said I would end up just like him no matter what I did and..." Tim's breathing quickened and became sharp gasps. "I don't want to. I don't want to be like him, but he just kept saying that it was inevitable. He was exactly like me, Dick. The only thing different was that he gave up before me. What if it happens? W-what if he was right and I do cause all of this destruction and I ruin everything and-", Tim wrapped his arms around himself and his gasps became more shallow with rising panic.

Now that he heard the words out loud, he finally grasped how hopeless his situation was. Everything on that universe was exactly the same from what he could tell aside from Joker Junior. And, judging by what Joker had described, they had lived exactly the same lives up until his breaking point. And the scariest part was that Tim didn't know if he would be able to stop it.

Though he'd never admit it, he understood most of what the clown had said. He remembered the tragedies and losses like they'd happened yesterday, and the hole in his heart grew wider and wider each time he thought about them. He could feel the emptiness creeping up on him like a shadow waiting to strike. He ignored it most of the time, refusing to acknowledge any of his internal feelings. He couldn't afford to waste any time thinking on the past, he told himself. But really it was because he knew that if he dwelled on that emptiness for too long it would consume him.

His whole life was so hopeless when he really thought about it. Tim worked hard to get to where he was, and was he ever rewarded for any of it? Everything he's worked for he's lost. He doesn't have Robin, he doesn't have his parents, he has barely any friends who haven't either died once or betrayed him.

In the back of his mind he understood Joker. Even the original one. He didn't know much about his backstory, but from what he could tell, the man had suffered a great loss shortly before his transformation into who he was today. That, added to the chemicals he'd fallen in that bleached his skin and colored his hair, the stress caused him to lose his mind.

Bruce and the rest of the family called him a monster, a psychopath. But deep in the recesses of Tim's mind, he was simply a victim of tragedy. That didn't condone any of his horrendous behavior, but he was still a victim.

So was he right? Could a few bad incidents really push anyone to the point of becoming like him? It happened to Joker Junior, so was Tim just as prone to it as he was? He shoved the inquiries from his mind, realizing that he'd been silent for at least a few minutes.

Dick was in a similar state, having been frozen throughout Tim's confession. His thoughts were a roiling cauldron of both concern and fear. Tim was just so fragile and innocent in his eyes. Only seventeen, and already he'd suffered more than most of the people Dick knew, even Bruce. Sure, the whole Batfamily had their share of trauma. But Tim...

Every day Dick found himself wondering how Tim still managed to stay so strong after a life composed of tragedy after tragedy. It had always been one of Tim's most admirable features, but what if it led to Tim's downfall in the end?

Dick had complete faith in his younger brother, but even the strongest people could be broken.

It took him a while to realize that Tim was staring at him, measuring his reaction. He must not have been assured by what he saw, because Tim started to get up, preparing to leave the room. "I-I shouldn't have told you. I should have just kept my mouth shut...", he muttered, more to himself than to Dick. He was about to get off the bed to leave, but Dick snapped out of his trance in just enough time to grab Tim's wrist before he could leave.

Dick pulled Tim into a tight hug, stroking his black hair and not saying a word. It took some time, but Tim eventually relaxed into Dick's arms. He buried his face into his warm shoulder, breathing in deeply. Neither brother spoke, simply holding each other in comfortable silence. After some time Tim pulled out of the embrace, wrapping his arms around himself and grasping his forearms like a life preserver. His eyes shone in the dim light, and he looked up at Dick with fear in his expression. "What do I do? He was so sure when he told me, and he was only a little bit older than I am. I don't want to go crazy. I don't want to get sent to Arkham, Dick."

Dick shook his head against Tim's ramblings, holding up a hand. "Don't listen to anything he told you, bud. Just shove everything he said from your mind, because I have complete faith that you have nothing to worry about."

Tim furrowed his eyebrows at Dick's confidence. "B-but he said-"

"It doesn't matter what he said or what he went through", Dick interrupted. "He wasn't you. He wasn't as strong as you are. I don't think it's even possible for you to sink that low, it's just not in your DNA. And every universe is different, Tim. You have your own path; you don't need to worry about what some maniac says to you. It's your future and yours alone, and I know in my gut that if anything, you'll probably end up as Batman or some other hero. You have nothing to worry about, little brother."

Tim scoffed quietly. "You have a lot of faith in the same guy who killed you in another universe", he muttered.

Dick shrugged. "I've said it before and I'll say it until the day I die. Nothing you could ever do could make me doubt you. I'd trust you with my life and have total confidence that you wouldn't let me down."

Tim still didn't relax, if anything drawing tighter into himself despite the protests from his still throbbing injuries. "I can feel it, though. The potential. And what about the Joker? I'm sure he was just a regular guy once, and now look at him. The worst villains in the world cower before this guy, and he was just an ordinary person who had a bad day."

"He didn't have me, did he? He didn't have Bruce, or Alfred, or an entire group of superheroes on his side who will always love him unconditionally. You do. You're a Wayne, and that means something."

"Yeah, but-"

"But that's all there is to it. I promise, Joker was just trying to freak you out. There's a huge difference between you and that lunatic, and that's that you're good. You couldn't become evil if you tried", he chuckled. "...Okay?"

Tim breathed and lessened his grip on his arms. "Okay", he finally answered.

Dick checked the alarm clock on Tim's nightstand. "It's only one o'clock, how about you try going back to sleep?"

Tim nodded and crawled under the covers, watching Dick rise from where he sat, intent on leaving. At the last moment Tim grabbed his sleeve, not too keen on being alone again. "Um, do you think maybe you could stay? Just for a little while, I mean", he amended.

Dick smiled, sitting back on the edge of the bed. "Sure, bud. Scoot over", he said.

Tim made room for Dick, and the older boy slid in next to his brother, raising his hand to ruffle Tim's hair. "'Night, baby bird", he whispered.

"'Night, Dick", Tim breathed back, closing his eyes and cuddling against Dick's side. It wasn't long before he was asleep again, sleeping more soundly than he had in weeks. He had no more nightmares that night.


End file.
